The Boy and His Ribbon (The Ribbon Duet, #1)(114)

But despite his youth, Tom was cute. And compared to Ren’s fine lines around his eyes and the aura of impatience and intolerance that came from hating people and growing up with the loner deep inside him, Tom was different enough to remind me I wasn’t dating him to replicate my fantasies of being with Ren, but he was similar enough to ease that ache in my heart.

Sick, I know.

Twisted, I agree.

But…I always warned you I wasn’t a nice person. That the more I followed this road, the worse I became.

I mean, most of the fights between Ren and me were my fault.

Shocker, right?

I know, I know, not a shock at all.

Most of the days that were full of tension and miscommunication were because those days…I couldn’t hide how I felt about him, and instead of blurting out that I was madly in love with him, I made him think I couldn’t stand him.

And those were the nights I fell asleep torturing myself with imaginings of what it would be like to share my first real kiss with him and be touched in places no one had touched and have him climb on top and—

Anyway, back to Tom…

He was sweet. There isn’t much more to say.

I suppose, while I’m at it, I’ll confess everything else I did wrong while Tom was in my life. I was cruel to him because I knew he liked me more than I could ever like him. Not that I could ever tell him why. When he texted me pages of ardent affection and how much he missed me when we weren’t together, I focused on giving him something I could all while hiding the bits that I couldn’t.

I couldn’t give him my heart.

But I could give him my body.

But even in that way, I used him again because my physical desires…well, Ren had nailed it when he accused me of being an animal wanting to get laid.

I wasn’t quite ready for sex, but holy cow, I was ready for something.

Just a kiss, a touch, a fumble in the dark.

I’d been ready for months, but something had held me back.

Ren.

Of course, it was Ren, but not in the way you’d expect.

His blurted, extremely surprising honesty that he hadn’t slept with Cassie until he was nineteen had effectively dampened my libido.

I honestly thought he’d been screwing her for years as I slept stupidly in the room next to the barn. The looks they’d shared. The kisses they’d stolen—it all hinted at full blown sex.

So how had he waited so long?

Why had he waited so long?

And just how the hell was I supposed to do the same?

Look, I’m getting ahead of myself again, and there’s a reason I’m going to reveal exactly what happened that first Halloween.

It was the first stepping stone to Ren walking out, and I think I’d always known it. I’d known it, and even though it lurked like a shadow between us from that moment on, I couldn’t seem to stop myself.

You see…I used Tom to hurt Ren.

Another terrible confession.

What seven deadly sins does that fit into?

I’m too brain-dead and emotionally exhausted to figure it out.

Adultery perhaps? Even though Ren and I had nothing to cheat on.

I was single. He was single. And I was ready to live a little, even if living meant existing in constant pain. Even if it meant seething in jealousy when Tina hit on him. Even if it meant, eventually, I’d have to smile away my heartache when Ren found someone else.

God, I never thought I’d be so tired writing this. I didn’t think memories had such a power to strangle and soothe at the same time. All I want to do is delete this and go to bed. To forget I ever started this tale and spend the last few days before my assignment is due writing something I can actually hand in.

But I also can’t end here.

I’m so close.

Just a few more chapters…and then, well, then I can rest, and perhaps the past won’t haunt me so much.

Are you ready?

Ready for more terrible Della?

I’m not, but let’s see if I can remember exactly what happened that night.

Some of it is a blur, and it’s not like you need to know it anyway.

The typical party stuff.

I arrived with Tina and Tom, dressed to my eyeballs in glitter and powder and two-hundred dollar Victorian gowns, wanting desperately to feel older and wiser and irresistible to someone, and realising that no matter how much cleavage I might have or how fluttery my eyelashes were or how I stared and licked my lips, Ren was immune to me.

If anything, he just got mad and made me feel even more of a fraud than I already was.

At least, Tom seemed to love my effort, and his hands never strayed from touching me, appeasing my jealousy over Tina’s constant whispering about how gorgeous Ren was and if he was available.

I tried to ignore her. I wanted to tell her he was a monk or someone who despised being touched. I threw myself into Tom’s attention and encouraged his hands to rest in the small of my back and linger on my waist.

I should’ve shivered at having him touch me in places that sent goosebumps leaping over my skin, but all I could think about was how Ren had snatched my wrist and held it so tight and unforgiving, leaving a circlet of his fingers for minutes after he’d let me go.

Tom was so tame compared to Ren, and that taboo, forbidden factor just wasn’t there, either.

Perhaps I’d become addicted to the fact that I couldn’t have Ren more than the actual reality that we weren’t actually compatible.